


Fallout 2: The Chosen One's Path

by Yaridovich23



Series: A Fallout Novelization [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, Novelization, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaridovich23/pseuds/Yaridovich23
Summary: Jaga, a powerful warrior from Arroyo Village, is sent to seek the Holy GECK. He must rely both on his strength and wits to survive in the Wasteland. Will he succeed, or will the Wasteland prove too deadly?





	

It was May 15th, 2241 when Vault 13 got the message. Overseer Martin Frobisher had hardly believed his eyes when he saw it. It had to be a fluke, right? But no…there it was! An all-clear message had arrived at his private terminal, clear as day! It was time to leave the Vault, and a team would be sent to pick everyone up in just a day. Martin had to act fast! He had never expected this to happen, so the “Leaving the Vault” instruction videos had just been collecting dust, as they had been for over a century.

After everyone was situated and educated, all there was left to do was wait. The Vault was buzzing with excitement. Ever man, woman, and child was excited to see what the world outside the Vault was like! The Vault was a bit on the smaller side, more than most other Vaults. About eighty years ago, after a situation with the Water Chip, a single man was exiled from the Vault, and about two dozen residents followed him. Men, women, and children went with him. It had a small, but noticeable impact of the future population of the Vault.

But who cared about that now? The Vault had the all-clear! Early on May 16th, the sensors inside the Vault detected a number of aircrafts approaching. It had to be the team sent to pick everyone up! A small welcome group was selected to greet the team as they came in. A man, woman, and child. The Vault door screeched open, giving the three a view of the outsiders. They were humanoids in odd gray metal suits. Each one was armed with a minigun, oddly enough. No one moved or said anything…the tension in the air was almost palpable. Sheepishly, the male Vault citizen raised his hand to wave.

The armored humans raised their miniguns and opened fire.

_War. War never changes._

_The end of the world occurred pretty much as had been predicted. Too many humans, not enough space or resources to go around. The details are trivial and pointless, the reasons, as always, purely human ones._

_The earth was nearly wiped clean of life. A great cleansing, an atomic spark struck by human hands, quickly raged out of control. Spears of nuclear fire rained from the skies. Continents were swallowed in flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans. Humanity was almost extinguished, their spirits becoming part of the background radiation that blanketed the earth._

_A quiet darkness fell across the planet, lasting many years. Few survived the devastation. Some had been fortunate enough to reach safety, taking shelter in great underground Vaults. When the great darkness passed, these vaults opened, and their inhabitants emerged to begin their lives again._

_One of the northern tribes claims they were descended from one such Vault. They held that their founder and ancestor, one known as the "Vault Dweller," once saved the world from a great evil. According to their legend, this evil arose in the far south. It corrupted all it touched, twisting men inside, turning them into beasts. Only through the bravery of this Vault Dweller was the evil destroyed. But in so doing, he lost many of his friends and suffered greatly, sacrificing much of himself to save the world._

_When at last he returned to the home he had fought so hard to protect, he was cast out. Exiled. In confronting that which they feared, he had become something else in their eyes...and no longer their champion._

_Forsaken by his people, he strode into the Wasteland. He traveled far to the north, until he came to the great canyons. There, he founded a small village, Arroyo, where he lived out the rest of his years. And so, for a generation since its founding, Arroyo has lived in peace, its canyons sheltering it from the outside world. It is home. The Chosen One’s home._

_But the scars left by the war have not yet healed. And the Earth has not forgotten._

The Chosen One of Arroyo stepped into the Elder’s tent. He had been summoned by her earlier that morning on July 25th, 2241. The tent smelled of burning incense and herbs, a smell that The Chosen One had long gotten used to. “Come in, Chosen One. There are things you must know.” The Elder croaked. She was an ancient, wrinkled woman. Short, thinning grey hair was hidden by the hooded cloak she wore, she was so small and thin that she practically swam in it, despites its modest size. Her most striking feature was her milky white right eye, with which she claimed she could see visions. She bowed her head, and continued speaking. “The village is dying. The signs are everywhere. Withering crops...dying Brahmin...sick children.” She gave a weary sigh, quaking her entire frame. “There is hope, however. A slim hope that few know of. The old disks speak of an item called the Garden of Eden Creation Kit. It is said it can bring life to the Wasteland. This will be your quest if you prove yourself worthy. For that proof, you must first journey to the Temple of Trials. If you survive, come back to me we will talk more. Our life is in your hands, Chosen One.” The Chosen One got up and made his way out of the tent. “Prove yourself. Find the GECK. Be our salvation.” She whispered after him.

The grandson of Jack Washington, The Chosen One, the one named Jaga stood before the Temple of Trials. The Temple was a behemoth of a building, made of mud-brown stone. Jaga himself was a behemoth of his own. He was the splitting image of Jack; except Jaga was six foot five with unkempt hair, and a nice even tan from being outside so much. But what defined Jaga was his muscle, the twenty-year-old was practically a mountain of muscle that he acquired through a lifetime of training and exercises. He wore only a pair of pants, made from tanned Gecko hide, and was armed only with a simple spear. He didn’t need anything else.

“Time to get this over with.” Jaga said with a small sigh as he entered the Temple. Inside was a stone corridor, pillars holding up the mighty stone ceiling and torches on the walls and pillars to light the way. Immediately, Jaga heard scurrying noises in the darkness ahead coming right at him! Jaga readied his spear as two giant ants, the size of German Shepherds, came charging at him. “Child’s play…” He muttered to himself as he rammed the spear straight through the first one’s head, easily piercing the tough carapace. The second ant charged at Jaga, who slammed its head with a mighty fist, stunning it enough to reclaim his spear and kill it. Giant ants never were much of a problem for Jaga.

Jaga slowly ventured further into the Temple, spear at the ready. He had no idea where the Temple came from, honestly. As far as he was alive, it had been there. Jaga had never asked about it. As it turned out, he really didn’t believe in all of the spiritual bullshit the rest of the villagers did. The visions, him being “The Chosen One”, his grandpa Jack being some sort of demigod. He never actually met his grandfather, he had left the village before Jaga was even born. Despite this, Jaga knew he had to just be a mortal, yet very badass, man. He had learned of Jack’s adventures eighty years ago, and how he had stopped a creature known as The Master. It was all written in his memoirs, unable to be twisted by those in the village into something grander. Grander, yet untrue.

Soon, Jaga came upon a large stone door. Even with his strength he could not move it, it had to be locked. No matter! It was just a simple lock, Jaga assumed. Placing his spear down, he reached into two holes the door had, starting to fiddle with the inner mechanisms. In less than a minute, the door clicked and Jaga was able to open it easily. He took his spear up and again and ventured deeper into the Temple.

The second area was more of the same. Giant ants trying to eat Jaga, and Jaga spearing them through the heads as they got close. Jaga had been trained since he was young to fight, and he was rather good at it. Geckos and giant ants never served much of an issue to him these days. As Jaga continued into the Temple, he thought about The Elder’s words. As much as he loved The Elder, his mother, he didn’t really take her words seriously. Sure, there was a drought and food wasn’t as plentiful as usual, but he didn’t see the danger. He didn’t feel he needed to get this GECK thing she told him about. He only considered it because he dared not disobey her. That, and the village counted on him whether they were in danger or not. Being the descendant of Jack Washington, Jaga was “The Chosen One” since birth. Yet he never had to do anything special until now. He was just “The Chosen One” until he was needed, like right now. Or so his mother thought.

Soon enough, Jaga came upon another locked stone door. Except this one had no holes with which to tinker. Perhaps there was a special key somewhere nearby that he had missed? Jaga backtracked, stepping over the corpses of giant ants as he went along. There were a number of large pots along the walls, prompting Jaga to look inside them. After a few pots, Jaga pulled out an odd plastic object. Wait…oh! It was a bomb! Yes, Jaga remembered one of the “civilized” traders showing these off before. Now how did these work…? Jaga looked the plastic explosive over as he made his way back to the door. “Ah…Wait, I think I got it…” Jaga muttered as he set the explosive and ran off. As he was nearing the corner, the explosive blew up early, sending debris everywhere! Jaga felt a wind by his face, a fist-sized rock flew by his head, hitting his hair. An inch closer and Jaga’s head would’ve been caved in! “Jeez…That was too close…” He muttered to himself. He really needed to learn how to operate those things!

Jaga took a breath and went back to the door, which was now completely gone; a hole in the wall now letting him venture further into the Temple. The hole led to a hallway, which led to a small room. Inside were three things of note. Another door, a fire pit, and Cameron. Cameron was Arroyo’s top hand-to-hand fighter, and a respected warrior. Jaga couldn’t help but wonder how he got in here. Secret passage? Cameron was a man with bulging muscles and a very confident air about him. He too only wore gecko hide pants, though Cameron also had a key on a chain around his neck, presumably for the door behind him. “Chosen One,” he started, “I have the honor of being your final challenge. To continue in your quest, you must defeat me in unarmed combat. Shall we begin?” He asked.

Well, this wouldn’t be easy. Cameron was a rather powerful warrior. Still, Jaga didn’t have much of a choice. He threw his spear aside. “Right! I accept this challenge!” With that, Jaga charged at Cameron, going around the fire pit. Jaga threw a jab at Cameron, who slipped right by it, getting behind his opponent. Jaga spun around so he and Cameron were face-to-face, the latter awaiting Jaga’s next move. Jaga glanced down, noticing some pebbles and dust piles on the floor. With a swift, precise kick, Jaga kicked up the pebbles and dust into Cameron’s face.

Naturally, Cameron raised his arms to protect his eyes, allowing Jaga to slam his fist into Cameron’s gut, hitting the poor warrior like a sledgehammer. Cameron doubled over from the cheap blow, eliciting Jaga to give him a right hook, nailing him right in the eye. This caused the warrior to fall onto his back in a slight daze. Jaga wasn’t one to hit someone while they were down, so he waited until Cameron recovered. The hand-to-hand expert glared at Jaga. “You may be The Chosen One, but what was a filthy trick!”

Jaga smirked with a slight shrug. “It worked, didn’t it? No monster or “civilized” person is going to fight fair on my journey.” He pointed out.

The logic seemed to, begrudgingly, make sense to Cameron as he stood up. He removed the key, handing it to Jaga. “I cannot deny that. And I cannot deny how quickly you put me upon my back. I wish you fought fairer, but you did best me.” Cameron didn’t want to admit Jaga would probably manage to trick him again somehow. Either way, he knew Jaga for so long…he knew he’d be okay. “Take this, and enter the final chamber.” Jaga took the key and waved to Cameron as he departed from where Jaga came. He somewhat felt sorry for his trickery, but it’s not like Cameron got seriously injured. Besides, now this stupid trial was over! Unlocking the door and picking up his spear, Jaga entered the final room of the Temple.

Inside the chamber was the greatest treasure of the Arroyo village. Inside was a Vault Suit and a Pip-Boy 2000; the very same that Jaga’s grandfather had worn all those years ago. Jaga quickly got changed into the suit, which oddly fit him well. It seemed so small as he put it on…perhaps it stretched out easily? He placed the Pip-Boy 2000 on his forearm and turned it on. He had no idea how to work this device, but he had plenty of time to learn. With that, he left the Temple and went back to the main village.

The Elder smiled as Jaga entered her tent once more. She gave him a warm, but tired smile as he sat down. “Congratulations, Chosen One, you have survived the Temple of Trials. Are you ready for your quest?” She asked, getting a bag from under her table.

Jaga nodded. “Of course, Elder.” Despite being her son, Jaga felt obligated to call her by her proper title. She had lead the village well for about thirty years now. He felt a great deal of respect for her, to say the least. Jaga admitted, it felt strange wearing this Vault Suit. Not because it was uncomfortable, quite the opposite was true. It was just the knowledge of this belonging to a figure everyone else in the village worshiped that made him feel almost uneasy with it on.

The Elder rooted about in her bag as she spoke. She took out a worn, blue flask with a yellow “13” on it. “Here, take this flask. It is from the holy Vault 13. Vic, a trader in Klamath, brought it to us. He may know where the vault is. You may also need some of what they call money. Here.” She took a small pouch full of golden disks, gold coins, from the bag and gave it to Jaga. There was about a hundred and fifty of the coins in there.

Jaga took the gifts. A flask from Vault 13 itself? This was the first he had heard of such a thing! “And where is Klamath exactly, Elder?”

“Directly to the east, Chosen.” She answered. “It will only take a few days to reach there. Was there anything else you needed to ask?”

Jaga pondered for a moment. “I believe it will be best if I leave in two days’ time, Elder.” Jaga admitted. The Elder gave him a quizzical look. “The traders should be making their round here tomorrow, and I feel they will have things I will need on my quest. Then the day after, first thing in the morning, I depart.”

The Elder pondered this, and then gave a nod. “I see the wisdom in that, Chosen. You should speak to Hakunin before you leave as well.”

Jaga resisted groaning. He was…not a fan of Hakunin, the village shaman. He was clearly out of his mind. Still, Jaga had to agree. “Of course, Elder. I will do that now.” And with that, he exited the tent into the outside. The village was but a series of tents across a brown, rocky, cracked ground. There was a forest of thin, half-dead trees around the village as well as a well from which they fetched their water. There were numerous villagers going about their business in their gecko hide clothes. A few of them noticed Jaga and whispered to each other, one of the children pointing at him.

After dropping off his spear, flask, and bag of money in his own tent, Jaga went to the tent behind The Elder’s. As Jaga entered, a disgusting and bitter smell watched over him. Whatever types of plants Hakunin was burning, Jaga was _not_ a fan of. Hakunin himself was an elderly man adorned with bones on his head. He wore a decorated robe, adorned with more bones. Across his lips and lower face was a disturbing tattoo of a set of teeth which, though Jaga would never admit this, gave him nightmares as a child. The worst part was Hakunin’s eyes. They were hazy, but unlike The Elder it was not because these eyes were blinded. He stared ahead of him, seeing things only he was able to. The shaman smiled and spoke as Jaga entered the tent. “Greetings, Chosen. Why does the earth before me warm to the touch of your passing?”

Jaga let out a sigh. Great. This shit again. Hakunin insisted on speaking in odd ways such as this. “I passed the Temple of Trials, as you can see.” Jaga said, gesturing to his new Vault Suit and Pip-Boy 2000. “I was told to come speak to you, and I was also hoping you’d speak to me like a human being.”

Hakunin didn’t seem to even realize he was insulted. “The Earth sings with the news of a champion upon the land…Perhaps, before you go, you would bestow a kindness?” He asked. Though the way he said it, it almost sounded like a polite order.

Jaga sighed again. A task? Now? He supposed he had no choice. “Okay, sure. Yeah. What is it, exactly?”

Hakunin didn’t answer right away. He guided Jaga outside and gestured toward a patch of crops near his tent. Jaga jumped a bit when he saw two large Venus flytraps sticking out of the soil. They were about as tall as he was, and looked pretty mean. Spore Plants. Of course. “The plants of dark soul have infested my garden again. Many seasons have touched my bones and I am too frail for that fight which is eternal in nature. I ask that you be my champion.”

Jaga nodded. Kill the plants. Right. “Okay, Hakunin. I’ll do this for you.” It was easy enough, this wasn’t the first time that “dark souls” have infested the garden. “I’ll just need to get my spear first.”

Hakunin gave a small, but hearty laugh. “May the gods bless your efforts, Chosen. May your aura grace my presence when the earth breathes clean again.” And with that, the mad shaman went back into his smelly abode.

Holding back a sigh, Jaga went and fetched his spear and approached the Spore Plants. He had to wonder there the hell these things came from. Hakunin wouldn’t be insane enough to PLANT them…right? As Jaga got close, the nearest Spore Plant let out a sort of hissing noise and shot at him. Out of the creature’s mouth came a small, barbed spike that just managed to hit Jaga’s cheek, giving him a cut. “You stupid leafy little…” He muttered as he ran at the plan, ducking under a second spike and thrusting his spear into the creature’s mouth, causing it to writhe and growl in pain. Jaga quickly retracted his spear and stabbed at the creature’s stalk near its head, effectively decapitating it. Jaga turned his attention to the other Spore Plant, who spat out a barbed spike at the warrior, hitting him square in the leg. Letting out a curse, Jaga fought through the pain and charged at the second plant, quickly shoving his spear down its throat, killing it.

Thankfully, the spike didn’t go in too far, so removing it was easy. Still, the wound had to be patched. After making a short visit to his tent for some bandages, Jaga reported back to Hakunin. The shaman seemed to know why Jaga was there, and smiled. “You return the spirit of the Dweller to the world and bring a smile to the soul of an old man in passing. For this, I give you powders of healing. Remember, they fog the mind as they cleanse the body.”

Hakunin took out two small bags from his cloak, handing them to Jaga. Healing powder. Not as powerful as Stimpaks, but easier to get out here. Jaga wasn’t too fond of the stuff, it tasted horribly bitter. Still, it’d be helpful on the journey ahead. “Thank you, Hakunin.”

Hakunin simply nodded and just sat down at the back of his tent. No more words, didn’t even say anything as Jaga left the tent, rolling his eyes. Jaga barely took two steps when a familiar voice called out. “Cousin! Cousin!” Jaga turned and saw his younger cousin Nagor approaching him, looking worried. Nagor was a few inches shorter than Jaga, and not nearly as muscular. “Cousin, please, I need your help!”

Jaga had the feeling he’d be needing these healing powders soon. He noticed Nagor’s dog, Smoke, wasn’t with him like he usually was. “What’s wrong, Nagor? Is it Smoke?”

Nagor nodded and pointed to a path to the northwest, which led to Arroyo’s hunting grounds. “Smoke ran off into the hunting grounds and hasn't come back, and now Morlis won't let me go find him. She says it's too dangerous and he's just a dog, but I was going to go anyway. But now you're here and you could do it and I wouldn't get in trouble.” He explained.

Morlis. Nagor’s mother and Jaga’s aunt. For whatever reason, she had always hated Jaga, and was just generally a bitch. Probably jealousy that she didn’t become the Village Elder. Jaga had to help his cousin, what kind of guy would he be if he refused? He realized his Vault Suit had no pockets, so he tossed the two bags of healing powder to Nagor, who instinctively caught them. “Here, hold these for me. I’ll go get Smoke.”

As Jaga made his way to the hunting grounds, spear at the ready, Nagor called out behind. “Thank you, cousin! I owe you!” The walk to the hunting ground was about ten minutes, and was a large group of trees rich with geckos. Jaga crept through the trees, keeping an eye and ear out for Smoke. Suddenly, he heard a hissing and whipped around. Sprinting at him was a gecko! Like most geckos in the area, it was a silver color, and about two feet tall. It ran at Jaga on its hind legs, claws and teeth at the ready!

With a mighty thrust, Jaga pierced the creature’s neck with his spear, preventing it from calling out for help as it bled to death. A whole herd of these things would be annoying to deal with! Removing his spear, Jaga kept going, sometimes stopping to let a gecko that hadn’t spotted him move past. Eventually, he found Smoke near a cliff face, with a large puddle of odd green liquid nearby. It didn’t look pleasant, so Jaga ignored it. “Smoke, there you are!” Jaga called. Smoke barked and ran to greet Jaga. Smoke was a German Shepard-looking dog with mostly black fur. The dog licked Jaga’s hand, tail practically a blur from wagging so fast. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

Smoke let out a bark of agreement as the two made their way back to Nagor, having to kill a few more geckos on the way. As the two approached, Nagor got down on one knee as Smoke charged and nearly bowled him over in excitement. “You did it, cousin! Smoke, I was so worried!” He said as he petted his dog. “Thank you so much, Jaga. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Smoke died out there!”

Jaga shrugged as he got his healing powder back. It turned out he didn’t need it after all, at least. “It’s no problem. Just keep him closer, okay?” And with that, Jaga returned to his tent. He spent the rest of the day relaxing in his tent and thinking about his quest. It was odd…there were a lot of geckos in the hunting grounds. Was this GECK even needed? It certainly didn’t seem that way. Still, Jaga couldn’t back down now. Besides, if he could improve the village, that was reason enough for a quest. That, and Jaga had always wanted to see what was out there. He talked to a few of the “civilized” traders, so he knew there were settlements out there that weren’t tribal. What kind of places were out there…?

The next day was spent preparing. The traders came in the afternoon as they usually did. Jaga traded some food and supplies for a few helpful items; mainly some stuff to hold guns. The villagers of Arroyo never used anything but spears, especially no guns. Though Jaga knew he’d probably come across them eventually and would take what he could get. That, and it was entirely possible that Jaga had, in the past, traded some supplies to let these traders let him practice with their guns when no one else was around. He wasn’t an expert sharpshooter, but he could hit a target. Jaga bought a belt with two holsters on either side along with some boxes along the belt to hold ammo. He also bought some straps for his back so he could carry larger guns. He packed up food and water as well, ready to go in the morning.

Two days after receiving his mission, Jaga entered the Elder’s tent. He had his spear, his new equipment and clothes, and the Vault 13 flask. “Elder, I am ready to go.” He announced.

The Elder smiled at Jaga with what was clearly pride. “Good, good. Good luck to you, Chosen. I know you will succeed. If you don’t…we will not make it.”

Jaga bowed slightly. “Yes, Elder. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Jaga stood and left the tent, somewhat wishing his mother was the hugging type. Now that he was leaving, Jaga felt nervous! He had never gone on a journey like this before, and he had no idea what to expect! Still, he knew he had to do this, and that if he kept his wits about him, he’d be okay. Jaga said good-bye to his friends and family as he headed towards the village exit. He passed by the giant stone head depicting his grandpa Jack, and placed his hand on it for luck. After that, he crossed the bridge leading out of the village and over a seemingly bottomless ravine…and into the Wasteland.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: And with that, Fallout 2's novelization begins. As you can see, I went a very different route with Jaga's characterization. Not quite as noble as Jack, and is more akin to something out of a Greek Epic in terms of his immense strength. I felt it was important to mix things up a bit. If you enjoy it, or have criticism for me, please leave a review.
> 
> Also, as a reminder, I will be using story aspects found only in the Restoration Project. So expect some changes later on.


End file.
